


Smells Like Barbecue Sauce

by I_Dream_In_Electric_Blue



Category: Fall Out Boy, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: But here I am tryna spice it up and be different, Domestic Fluff, Honestly I was so close to writing a blowjob at the end, I honestly don't know. I've never written a fluff, I'm trying to be different., Injured Brendon, M/M, Patrick To The Rescue, Suspicions, barbecue sauce, is this fluff?, lying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-07
Updated: 2017-08-07
Packaged: 2018-12-12 07:08:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11732058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_Dream_In_Electric_Blue/pseuds/I_Dream_In_Electric_Blue
Summary: Brendon's got a secret and Patrick wont stop until he figures it out.This is probably the only non-smutty thing I will ever write.





	Smells Like Barbecue Sauce

**Author's Note:**

  * For [halfsweet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/halfsweet/gifts).



> This is it. This is how I injured myself. Thanks for the temporary pain relief by the way, hope you like this gift.

He walked into the apartment, groceries in hand, and as soon as he closes the door the noise hit his ears.

_Moaning._

It was almost like a growling noise, as if someone was trying to moan through a gag or cloth or something. And it wasn't their kinky neighbors this time. It was coming from their apartment and it was definitely Brendon. Patrick would recognize those noises anywhere.

"Fuck," he groans hitting something hard enough that he could feel it vibrate the apartment.

"Brendon," Patrick says.

"Shit," he hears him say through the paper thin walls.

"Brendon," Patrick says again, "I just got the groceries and I could use some help."

"Uhh, yeah, sure, just--fuck! Just give me a second, baby," he said, his voice coming from the bedroom.

_Baby?_

He never called Patrick baby unless they were having sex. He didn't want to move from his spot, he really didn't, but something was moving him forward, something was controlling his feet and telling them to walk towards their bedroom. His hands began shaking as he reached for the door handle because he knew there's nothing else it could be. He knew what he was hearing and he was bracing himself for the worst.

He opens the door seeing Brendon pulling his sweatshirt down over his torso. He looked up at him, his hair wet and his pajamas on. He looks at the windows seeing them open and he can't help but go and look out them both.

"What's wrong, Trick?"

"Nothing, I just thought I saw someone out here on my way up. I was just making sure they weren't coming through our windows or something. Why do you have them open?"

"Oh, I um, I got hot in here."

"Then why are you wearing a sweatshirt?"

"I just got done taking a shower so I'm not that hot anymore. Kind of cold actually."

"It's August," he says and Brendon stays silent, "so what did you do all day?"

"Not really much of anything since it was my day off. Oh you needed help with groceries, didn't you?"

"Yeah," he says still staring at him.

"Well, why don't I go do that for you? I'm sure you must be tired from work. Why don't you shower?"

"Yeah, I'll do that," he says.

Brendon walks off and leaves Patrick in the bedroom by himself. He closes the door and begins searching the room. The bed is messed up but it doesn't smell like sex in the room. The windows were opened though so that could have gotten rid of the smell. He closes them but not before checking them again one last time.

He sighs and reaches for their drawer. Condoms are all there, lube looks untouched. He goes into the bathroom seeing only Brendon's clothes soaking wet in the middle of the floor. He picks them up smelling the familiar scent of barbecue sauce on them before throwing them in the dirty clothes. He's beyond confused at this point and he's too disgusted to get in the shower, his mind filling with thoughts of what Brendon could have been doing in there.

_Who he could have been doing in there._

He heads into the kitchen seeing Brendon calmly putting things away and smiling at the foods Patrick had gotten for him. He's too calm for someone who was freaking out a few minutes ago. He turns seeing Patrick standing there staring at him.

"Hey," he smiles, "thanks for getting pie. You know, I have been craving pie all day."

"Brendon, what were you doing when I walked in?"

"Putting clothes on, why?"

"If I ask you something will you promise to be completely honest with me?"

"Of course, what's up?"

He places his hands on the counter looking down before taking a deep breath.  He lets it out slow and prepares himself.

"Patrick," Brendon asks looking concerned.

"Are you cheating on me," he asks quickly looking up at him.

"What," he asks.

"I wont be mad if you are I just want you to tell me the truth so we can do something about it."

"No," he says confused, "no I'm not cheating on you. Why would you think that I'm cheating on you?"

"I heard you when I came in. You were moaning and you were rushing to pull your clothes on. The windows were open and I heard the noises you were making before I got in here! I'm not stupid, Brendon, so just tell me the truth."

"I'm not cheating on you," he says, "I'd never do that to you. You know that. I would never hurt you like that."

"Then why were you making those noises," he asks.

"I was masturbating," he says pausing for a second to think about it.

The second was short but Patrick can still tell he's lying.

"You're lying to me!"

He shakes his head and reaches out to cup his cheek. He smacks Brendon's arm away and watches the man groan and grab his wrist. Patrick begins to get concerned with the way Brendon grabbed his wrist. He knows he didn't push his arm away hard enough for it to hurt. He barely used any force.

"Brendon, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," he says, "I have to go to the bathroom."

"What's wrong with your wrist," he asks.

"Nothing," he says louder.

Patrick takes his hand and grabs it pushing his sleeve up to see a red burn mark on the skin of his wrist. His voice softens and he looks at it carefully seeing the red blotchy marks over his skin.

"What happened," he asks touching it gently.

"Fuck," he groans, "don't touch it."

The groan sounded just like the one from earlier.

"What did you do?"

"I burned it," he sighs.

"I'm going to get some aloe, go sit on the couch."

He walks off and manages to find the bit bottle of blue gel unopened in the medicine cabinet and a wrap. He walks into the living room seeing him sitting awkwardly on the couch. The smell of cleaning product and barbecue sauce hits his nose distracting him for a second but he ignores it and focuses on Brendon when he sees the burn again. He's sitting on the couch pouting and holding his arm looking as if he were about to be in trouble. He takes his hand in his exposing his wrist so he can see how bad it is.

"You made me think you were sleeping with someone behind my back with all your moaning in pain. Why didn't you just tell me you burned yourself?"

"I don't know," he says.

"How did you even burn yourself anyway?"

"I forgot the stove was on and my arm touched the eye."

"You turned on the stove? What did you even make?"

"I was going to make spaghetti but I forgot to start it and I accidentally burned my arm."

He takes the plastic off the brand new bottle and sets it on the coffee table before he begins to spread the aloe over the burn. He hissed when the cold gel touched his skin. Patrick muttered an apology and continued to apply the gel. He gave it a thick enough layer to soak into the skin so it wouldn't blister. That's when he noticed the pattern. It didn't look like the stove eye at all. There wasn't a circle or even part of a circle. Brendon was still lying, he had to be. Patrick asks himself what he could possibly be hiding.

"Brendon, how did you not notice the red stove eye?"

"I must've spaced out."

He sighs and wraps his wrist carefully, "you know, your burns aren't even in a sort of circular shape. They look a little patchy."

"So?"

"So you're lying to me," he says finishing wrapping his arm.

Brendon pulls his sleeve down and stands heading back to the kitchen.

"I'm not lying," he says annoyed, "I've got groceries to put up."

He looks down where Brendon was sitting and sees brownish stains that look like they've been scrubbed at. The barbecue smell hits his nose again and he remembers why it smells familiar. They had ribs the other night, too many honestly and there were still some left over in the fridge. Did Brendon spill the ribs on the couch? Patrick reaches for the plastic on the table and heads over to the trash seeing bones from the ribs.  
Brendon _had_ spilled ribs on their couch.

"Brendon?"

"What now," he asks.

"There's a huge stain on the couch that smells like barbecue sauce. You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"

He freezes, "you probably dropped them when we were eating them the other night."

"I would remember dropping my food onto the couch. Also, the couch was clean before I left today," he smiles setting the bottle down on the counter.

Brendon turns seeing Patrick's amused face as he crosses his arms over his chest.

"So?"

"So you want to tell me what happened?"

"No."

"Brendon."

"Patrick."

"Did you burn yourself eating ribs on the couch?"

"No," he said looking away.

"Are you lying?"

"Yeah," he says softly before raising his voice to explain, "I just put more barbecue sauce on it so it would have more sauce for me to dip it in, you know? And then when I went to sit down it slid off the plate and hit my wrist. It burned like a motherfucker, you don't even know. I just didn't want to tell you because it's super embarrassing to say _I burned myself eating ribs_  it's almost as bad as the time I spilled hot gravy on my arm and my elbow had a burn mark in the shape of a dick for three weeks."

"Yeah, I remember. Everyone called you Brendong when they found out."

"It was awful. They said so many dick jokes around me and when I got mad they just laughed and told me I was acting like a _Brendickhead._ I wore long sleeves in July!"

"Yeah, you did," Patrick smiled, "thank you for telling me the truth this time."

"Yeah, yeah," he says pouring some juice for himself.

"Oh, Brendon, one more question."

"Yeah?"

"When you dropped the ribs on the couch did you eat them afterwards?"

"Patrick, you know I did."

"How many times have I told you not to eat food that you drop?"

"And how many times have I told you that I am not going to waste perfectly good food just because I dropped it!"

"BRENDON!"

"Patrick, why is this idea so foreign to you? It is called the five-second rule everyone does it!"

"It's called how to get yourself sick. Remember what happened last time with the egg rolls? You knocked them onto the floor watching Mexican wrestling and I said _Brendon, please don't eat those_ and you said _Don't tell me what to do_  and then you ate them anyway and got super sick for three days. Remember that?"

"That was food poisoning, Patrick, it wasn't because I dropped it on the floor. It was the Chinese restaurant's fault."

"Then why didn't I get sick. I ate one of the egg rolls before you dropped them."

He opens his mouth before shaking his head, " _that_  is because you are more immune to stuff like that. My immune system is very fragile."  
  
He pinches the skin between his eyes and sighs, "no it's not."

"Look, are we going to argue about this or are we going to cook dinner?"

"If we cook dinner and you drop it are you going to eat it off the floor."

"Obviously, Patrick. It's like you haven't been hearing the words coming out of my mouth all these years. You know, sometimes I feel like you don't know me at all."

"Jesus Christ. You know what, I'm going to shower and when I get out I expect the barbecue stain on the couch to be gone."

He sighs loudly, "fine."

Patrick stands there while Brendon looks at him. He felt bad about asking him if he was cheating. He should have known that wasn't what it was. Brendon has always been good to him. He never even looked at anyone else. And if he did he certainly never looked at anyone in front of Patrick. As far as he and everyone else knew Brendon only had eyes for him. He only ever wanted to be with him. He walks over to him putting his arms around him and hugging him tight.

"You don't have to hug me I know you're not actually mad at me."

"I just wanted to say I'm sorry I thought you were cheating on me," he says, "I know you would never do that and I'm sorry I even asked, I know it must've felt like I didn't trust you, which I do, I do trust you."

"It's fine. I was being weird and lying to you. You had every right to be suspicious. I should have just told you I burned myself, I just didn't want you to make fun of me for burning myself with ribs."

"I didn't make fun of you when you told me. And I didn't make fun of you when you had the penis burn either."

"I know. Honestly coming home to you those couple weeks was the only good part about that situation. I really liked hearing you say my name correctly while everyone else made fun of me."

"Brendon," he smiles up at him.

"God I could listen to you say my name all day," he smiles back.

"Mmm, Brendon, Brendon, Brendon!"

"I can't get over how great it sounds when you say it."

He leans down kissing him and Patrick pulls back giggling and trying to hold back a grin.

"What," he asks.

"You taste like ribs."

"I do," he asks.

He nods.

He kisses him again and when Patrick least expects it he shoves his tongue in his mouth wiggling it around. Patrick pulls back spitting and making a face, "ugh!!"

Brendon smiles proudly and Patrick looks at him disgusted and shaking his head, "oh my god you are so fucking gross, Brendon!"

He laughs watching Patrick walk off, "great! Now I have to go brush my teeth to get rid of this taste in my mouth."

"Aww, I thought you'd love my barbecue kisses."

"You are so disgusting!"

"I love you too, Patrick!"

He turns to look at him, trying to seem angry. But the taller man is looking at him with all the love in his eyes and it takes everything in him to not start smiling back at him, "yeah, yeah, I love you too. Even when you're being gross."

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know how to write relationship stuff that isn't sex or something like it. This is just based off something that happened to me but I wrote it visualizing how I think this would go if it happened to them. I hope those who read it liked it. If not that's fine, this is probably the last time I'll write something like this anyway. Tell me if I made any mistakes I tend to do that.


End file.
